


Dog Days

by Vimes



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 04:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vimes/pseuds/Vimes
Summary: After being more or less vindicated for taking down William Rawlins, Frank tries again for at least the appearance of an ordinary life. But his past is, for now, one mystery to you out of many. All you know is that he’s almost near enough to touch and that you’re desperately tempted to close that gap.Frank Castle/f!reader, romance? Slow burn? Eventual smut? I don't know, it's a work in progress ^^





	1. Chapter 1

One of these days that doorbell was going to be the death of you. It cut through the singing from your speaker, the clink of china against the metal sides of the sink and the evening sirens beneath your flat. You methodically put the sponge back, slid the rubber gloves off, pulled down your sleeves and paused the music, just to see whether this unexpected visitor would either give up and walk off, or impatiently start causing a racket. The boards creaked on the other side, but there was no other movement. You took a deep breath, made sure the chain was on and then slowly opened the door enough to see what this was about.

There wasn’t really anyone you wouldn’t have been surprised to see, but Frank Castle might well have been the very least likely option. 

“Frank?” you asked, as if hearing him confirm his identity would help in any way.  
He looked as pained as ever, and nodded politely, shooting you a quick, apologetic glance before bending his head again.   
“I’m very sorry to bother you, ma'am,” he mumbled. It was so rare to hear his voice that you managed to forget every time just how low and deep it rang.   
“No, of course. Hold up.” You shut the door and opened it a second later, wide enough that he could enter. He seemed genuinely startled and hesitated on the doormat. Since your first meeting, you’d learned the hard way that making him feel at ease was far beyond your powers.

But Frank was full of surprises this evening. He actually let you close the door behind him and took in his surroundings with polite curiosity until you motioned for him to proceed you into the kitchen. He obliged, but didn’t take a seat, just stood with his feet far apart and his unflattering beanie in one hand. “This wasn’t really…” Frank scratched the back of his head and you leant back against the counter while waiting for him to arrive at a point. It was too much to hope that this was a social call. Then he fixed you with his intense brown eyed stare. “Look. I wouldn’t ever ask something like this if I had any other options. I’m gonna be out of town for a little while and I… I got no one to look after Jaws.”

You blinked, and then the penny dropped. The only thing stopping you from grinning was your teeth biting down on your lower lip. “…Your dog’s name is Jaws?”

Frank snorted. A smile flashed across his face, uncertain when it found itself in such hostile territory. “Can’t take credit for that, I’m afraid. He’s a rescue dog.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

You shook your head wistfully and felt a sting somewhere close to your heart. In the two months since he moved in, you hadn’t seen anyone come to see him. He never came crashing through his front door late on a weekend after fumbling drunkenly with his keys, never brought home furniture, pretty people or even a cheeky box of Fruit Loops. Now fresh bruises and interesting limps, that was a different story. What kind of life was that for anyone to lead?  
After the first time you met you’d thrown out a couple of lines here and there with fairly obvious hooks hanging at the end.   
How much you liked dogs, for one thing. That there was a bar about a block away that you might want to visit but it was such a gamble, trying to get home safely after an evening out.   
And Frank had refused the bait with such gruff, careful chivalry that you were almost convinced he didn’t even spot what you were doing. Letting you down so gently you barely felt yourself sink.   
  
When he wasn’t around, and he seldom was, it was easy to remember that he was one man out of, let’s be honest, all too many and that his polite disinterest meant nothing in the larger scheme of things. But every now and then you had to squeeze past him in the stairwell, which meant you had to bring his after shave deep into your lungs, had to hear him mutter a greeting and feel the heat of his body embrace you the way you wish the rest of him would. Every time that happened you felt as if you’d been punched in the gut and suddenly going over to ask to borrow some sugar seemed less like a bad idea. After all, classics were classics for a reason, right?   
  
You parted your lips to ask if he really didn’t have anyone else who could help him out, but realised there was no way to make that question sound good.   
“He’s house trained, right?”  
Frank exhaled slowly. His jaw unclenched. “Course. Might take him a while to learn who’s the boss outta the two of you and he don’t like men much but… he’s a total sweetheart, I swear.”  
That would have been a good opening for a comment about your good luck in being single, but there were limits to how hard you would press him.  
“How long will you be gone?”  
“Two days. Three, tops. You get weekends off?”  
“I’ll make time for him, don’t worry.”  
“Alright.” Frank finally allowed himself to relax enough to smile. “I’ll swing by Friday evening, set you up with everything you need.” He held his hand out and with a laugh at this ceremony you took it and shook it in yours. Warm, broad and calloused beyond belief. When your fingertips brushed the back of his hand you could have sworn you felt the thick veins pulsing, but it might just have been your own heart making its presence known throughout your entire body. Your smile went from amused to warm, he squeezed to prove his sincerity and quickly let go.   
“Thank you so much for this,” he said again as he stepped back out through the doorway. “I’m in your debt, alright?”


	2. Chapter 2

Friday arrived and you were proud to say you were only wearing your second most flattering outfit, such was your immense restraint and flippant, devil may care attitude. Frank arrived as well, with Jaws pressed against his leg and a plush dog bed in his arms, filled to the brim with food, toys and treats.

While Frank led a spartan life free of anything resembling creature comforts, he obviously did not expect his furry friend to follow his example.  
The dog bed might be a masculine military green, but the food was named meat rather than just meat adjacent and there was nothing even remotely cool about the neon orange plush monkey riding regally atop the pile, chewed lovingly to within an inch of its life. Frank was talking to Jaws to encourage him to follow, but you couldn’t even hope to pay it any attention – the image of Frank Castle, clad as always in all black standing in a toy store, surrounded by over stimulated children and testy parents, quietly debating with himself the merits of each unnatural-looking stuffed animal and checking for choking hazards was just too powerful to ignore.  
Jaws was alternately sniffing your possessions and looking over at his owner and you sat down on your haunches to reintroduce yourself.

“We’re going to get on just fine, aren’t we, Jaws?” It was impossible to tell who out of the three of you needed most convincing.  
Frank sat his burden down on the kitchen table and left the cans of food on the side for you to put where you’d prefer them. Then he dug in his jeans pocket and got out a grubby sheet of paper and a thick pile of bills tied up with a rubber band.  
“Wrote down everything you might wanna know on here,” he said, put the paper on the table and tapped it with his middle finger. A couple of bank notes followed, and he carefully slipped them under the piece of paper, presumably so you couldn’t estimate how hard you should try to turn them down. Your eyes met and he confirmed your suspicion with an “I insist” that would brook no refusal.  
You stood, took a breath to gather up the courage to offer him a cup of coffee before he left, but Frank was already petting Jaws and telling him to behave and not “bother the lady”.

His exit was unceremonious and he seemed preoccupied. Whatever he was planning it would probably be pointless to ask him about it and for a split second you wondered whether you’d see him again in one piece. But Frank made a point to impress on you one last time just how thankful he was that Jaws would be looked after and seeing the relief on his face was such a pleasant change that it was hard to stay worried.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

You nodded, waved, watched him stalk off towards his own apartment and shut the door when he was out of sight.

—-

Generally speaking he seemed to be a man of his word, but this time Frank didn’t live up to it. Past noon on Sunday you started looking at the clock more often than was your habit and each pair of footsteps in the stairwell sent you towards your door.  
It was an awkward position - if you stayed in waiting for him that might be your entire evening and if you went out even for the shortest time that might be the one window you had to hand Jaws back over. The pup had behaved admirably, no complaints there. He pulled on the leash during walks and submitted half reluctantly to your attempts to pet him but didn’t complain or test you; honestly, Jaws seemed better equipped to look after himself well than Frank was.

Eventually you gave up waiting, left a note on Frank’s door and took Jaws along to run the few errands that needed taking care of before the week begun again proper. After that it was the couch and a couple of treats for both of you.

When a quiet, insistent knock on the door brought you back to life and consciousness you panicked, sat up and blearily looked around to get a sense of time and space. It was one in the morning. Jaws must have taken a shine to you after all because he walked with you to the door and put himself between you and it. That made it a little awkward to open and look through the gap, but it was sweet and did mean that Jaws was there to signal all was well with the beating of his tail against your leg.

“Took you long enough,” you said, took the chain off and let Frank inside. Now it was his turn to have the dog tangled in his legs and you would have made a joke out of it if you hadn’t spotted the black eye when he stepped into the light. “…are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Fine.” he petted and kissed Jaws to quieten him down, then shot you a pained look. “I’m real sorry for being so late. I just figured I’d collect this one and let you try to get ready for work in peace.”

He didn’t look fine. Well, sure, he always looked fine, but he didn’t look okay. You bit your lip, saw him glance over his shoulder at the door and decided to insist. “At least just sit down for a minute. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

That got an amused snort out of him, but he held up his hands.  
“Really, I can’t do that. I’ve been a big enough pain in the ass as is.” And he must have swung by his own place before coming over, you realised, because his clothes were washed and his hands clean apart from the hint of dark red around and under his fingernails.  
Maybe this wasn’t the kind of guy you should have over in the middle of the night. But then, after all, he was here already and he did know where you lived.

“Don’t be rude. Do you even have food in the house?” Frank looked surprised and uncertain and you took advantage. “Come sit down and I’ll heat you up some leftovers.”

He shuffled in after you, sat at the table and quietly watched you work.

“What happened?” you asked to break the thick silence.

“Ran into some trouble, that’s all.”

“Seems to happen to you a lot.” No response. “I don’t see why, you cut just about the most intimidating figure I’ve ever seen.”

“I intimidate you?” There was a bit of a sparkle of life in his dark eyes now.

You dumped the food from the pot onto a plate, stuck knife and fork into it and slid it across the table. He mumbled a quick “thank you, ma’am,” but waited to hear your reply.

“No. I see you putting pains into making yourself look meek when you see me. You know, taking up as little space as you can, that sort of thing. Why, do you usually hurt women?”

“Only when they’re going after me, first.” Frank frowned, stabbed his meal a couple of times before lifting his fork to his mouth for the first bite. “…hey, this is pretty fucking good.”

“What else did you expect, with such wonderful presentation?” You poured you both some water and sat down opposite him. “I don’t mean to pry. You’re just really playing into that whole tall, handsome mystery man thing so I can’t help being curious.”

First he tensed, then you saw the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth and he watched you for a second. “Well. Good to know I still got it.”

“Finally picking up on that, are you?”

He took another couple mouthfulls to give himself a moment to think. “Don’t think I ain’t flattered,” he said “I am, really. You’re a gorgeous girl…”

Your heart seemed to be experiencing some momentary difficulties and heat started spreading from it, up and towards your cheeks. Never mind if he was just being as polite as always. “Woman.”

“Yeah. Just, yanno.” Frank pointed to his black eye. “Not exactly boyfriend material over here, am I right?”

You let your gaze dwell on him even as your smile faded and only uncomfortably sincere feelings remained. Then you stared down at the table, steadied your breath and scraped at a stain with your thumbnail. “I never said I was looking for something that serious.”

Silence descended again. But unless you were completely deluding yourself, the tension was different now, hotter, harder to breathe in. Frank cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh… I’ll keep that in mind.”

You smiled again, awkward and suddenly shy, then got up from your seat to gather all of Jaws’ things for something to do. By the time you came back to the kitchen he had already finished his food and washed his plate and when you handed him the pile his fingers grazed yours and he didn’t pull away. He seemed to be searching for something when he looked at you, then he bent his head, smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Thank you again. For everything.”

This time when he left, Frank paused and turned. “How about I bring over a bottle of wine or something next time you’re free, start making up for all this shit. It’s what people do, right?” You nodded and with just the slightest hesitation, he went on, “if you haven’t come to your senses by next week, maybe we can split it.”

“Alright. It’s a date.” It was a wonder your voice carried. You shook your head, shut your eyes with a sheepish, pained grimace. “Or, you know. Something.”


	3. Chapter 3

That's not how it went down. Frank found you in the yard four days later, you still dressed for work and shivering despite the warm weather, him with a box full of bottles ready for recycling. You wiped your face with your sleeve but it was too late. He set the box down and quickly came over to you, hesitating the last few steps as he searched for the edges of your personal space.   
“What happened?”

“It's nothing. Rough day, that's all.”  
“You've been crying. That ain't nothing.”

You managed a smile on the second try. “I promise, I'm tougher than I look.”

“Humour me. Please.” He lay a heavy, gentle hand on your shoulder for just a moment, prompting you to look up at him. There was a hint of genuine concern on his stoic face and you forced yourself to stop shaking.   
“Alright. There's a man at work who hasn't been... getting the hint. He... he just called me on my private phone when I was walking home and I have no idea how he got that number.”  
Frank frowned, turned cold, opened and closed his hands before bringing one of them up.   
“Mind if I take a look?”  
“At the phone?”  
“Yeah. You know, those things are pretty much just trackers in a nicer package.”  
“You're not going to go on an anti instagram tirade, are you? Complain about the narcissism of today's society?” It was a mystery what he was hoping to do with it, but you slid your phone out of your pocket all the same, unlocked it and handed it over.

He snorted. “I may just be a knucklehead over here but a friend of mine, he's a real wiz with this shit. Could take a look at it for you, make sure no one's watching you.”  
You couldn't help yourself. “Let me get this straight. You have a friend?”  
“Oh, good one.” Frank glared up from the screen with just the hint of a smile. “Real original. You do parties?”  
“I won't say no to the help. I'm pretty sure I've cleared my search history, so what's the worst that can happen?” You were deflating a little again despite your efforts. The anger and surprise had faded long before he stepped onto the scene and now you were just tired. Tired of having to look over your shoulder and distrust everyone, if only to make the right sort of victim once shit finally hit the fan. And Frank was nice to offer but you had little faith he could, or would, do much. This friend of his might count a third-rate minions meme page among his greatest technical accomplishments for all you knew but right now, just having that thing on your person made your skin crawl.  
Then the gentlest, slowest touch of his cracked knuckles under your chin made you lift it and stand taller. “Hey,” he muttered. “I said I'd take care of this, so I will, you hear? No one's gonna get near you.”

  
\-----  
  
Stalkers be damned, a girl has got to eat. It helped that you had an evening shift the following day and that your insistent gentleman caller was scheduled for the morning. To be on the safe side, you'd called ahead to inform everyone you would be late and now you were walking through the underground parking lot with your house keys between your knuckles, just to check whether his car was still waiting in his usual spot.   
It was, and you took shelter behind a concrete pillar to fight for control over your lungs and to see him safely away. Others spilled out through the door, traded goodbyes of varying sincerity and filed out towards their own rides, but he wasn't among even the last trickle of people. Who the fuck hung around this long past their working hours even for quote unquote love? Add that to the list of his inhuman behaviours.   
After a few more minutes of this you were tempted to cave and walk in, just to rip off the band aid. That inner debate lasted for a moment and just as you'd put your foot forward to face the music, you saw him coming, with a frown on his face and his phone in his hand.   
Shit. You pressed your back to the concrete again. A confrontation was still an option, but since when did that ever work? Then a shadow moved across the wall you stared at and towards your harasser. You bent down and crept around to watch and wait.

A hulking figure in all black emerged from the gloom and into your colleague's view just as he made it to the door to the driver's seat and you heard a startled yelp. The other held his thick arms out from his sides, stalked closer, flexed his hands and forced your coworker up against the door of the car like the weight of a body meant nothing.

“Oh God, no...!” the man groaned and a deep, raw voice growled back:  
“Yeah you recognise this mug, don't you, you piece of shit?”

Your heartbeat nearly drowned out the noise. You'd never seen Frank like this before and propriety very nearly sent you barreling towards them to stop this from going too far. Shame for this creep that nothing but lip service to common morals worked in his favour.   
Because Frank had offered to help, hadn't he? What else could he really do? He was a grown man and if he got himself into trouble he seemed the type to if not get out of it just as quickly, at least share it freely with others. So you stayed, with knees trembling, eyes wide open, a hand over your mouth and hot, sickening lust for revenge boiling in the pit of your stomach.   
“Get in the car, asshole. We're going for a ride.”  
“Please, I haven't-”   
Something out of your line of sight shut him up and he managed to get his door open, slid inside and scooted meekly to the passenger's seat. Frank turned to look around him and you saw his chest heave, his eyes black and cold and staring, his jaw tense. He hadn't seen you. He adjusted his cap under the hoodie to make sure his features were shielded from the cameras, got into the car and without a second's hesitation drove it out of the garage and out of sight.   
  
\-----  
  
Inevitably, Friday rolled around and for some reason you hadn't felt like making plans. That meant Frank didn't have to wait even a minute on the welcome mat before you slowly opened the door to peer out at him. He was wearing a clean and very nearly smooth white shirt and an ever so slightly uncertain expression. In his right hand he held your phone, the other wielded a gift wrapped bottle of wine, the long necked kind that promised bubbles at the very least.  
“Hey. I, uh... figured you'd want your phone back.” He handed it to you and you took it. “You can photograph your food to your heart's content – there ain't anything wrong with it. Might wanna change the number, that's all.”  
You looked up at him from your phone. Your voice was steady. “Did you kill him, Frank?”  
He blinked, hesitated, but didn't insult you by feigning ignorance of what you meant. After a pause, he replied “you mind if we talk about this inside?”

“I don't know if that'd be very smart.” You leaned on the doorframe and couldn't bring yourself to hold his pained gaze any longer. “I'm not generally the type to snoop around, but I googled your name.”  
Nothing. A slow, shaking out-breath, then a creak when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I figured you already knew.”  
You nodded – it made sense. He'd given you his real name even though his letterbox said something different. And he'd taken pains to keep you at arm's length to say the least. With his face plastered all over the news so recently it was a safe assumption that you'd recognise him.  
“Look, I...” Frank cleared his throat and he sounded so uncharacteristically small it nearly broke your heart. “This is for you, for looking after Jaws.” He held out his second offering. “I appreciate it.”

You took the bottle and Frank didn't torture himself by waiting to turn and walk away. Now you looked up. His head was bent, out of view. With a tremble, you made your decision and forced yourself to speak.  
“Hey.”  
He turned, ever so slightly. Your voice broke only once. “I thought we agreed we'd split this.”


	4. Chapter 4

It figured that with such a stature it'd take more than half a bottle of wine to loosen Frank up. Good thing then that you had a nearly intact box to chase it. When you fetched it and came back to the cramped sitting room, Frank was examining your bookcase with his flute glass dwarfed in his hand.  
“What's the verdict?”  
“You read all of these?” he asked and held out his glass for a top up.  
“Most of them. Some were bad gifts, some I kinda picked with good intentions and never got around to.”  
He nodded and traced the broken spine of one of your favourites with a finger before sitting back down on the couch. “You'll have to pick out some recommendations for me sometime.”

You smiled and flopped down at a safe distance beside him. Just now you couldn’t think of something to say and Frank seemed uncomfortable in the silence. He frowned, licked his lower lip and looked down at his hands. “Look, I... you hesitated to invite me over and I gotta say, maybe you shoulda listened to that instinct.”

“Why? Are you going to hurt me?”

He looked disgusted by the very thought and grimaced. “Course not. I just wonder what the hell you’re thinking, here.”

It was a fair question and you chose your words carefully. “I’m scared of a lot of things. You, what you’ve done... that’s not among them.” Having your heart broken, being controlled, betrayed, those would be bigger worries. Those were mundane and what you knew of Frank was not.

“It ain’t just what I’ve done though. It’s what I am.”

Maybe you were kidding yourself, but it looked, when he searched your eyes, like a part of him hoped you’d contradict him.

“Principled?” You grinned and continued despite him squirming in his seat. “Chivalrous? Willing to fight for what you think is right, for people who can’t protect themselves?”

Frank laughed, mouth twisted to one side, mumbled an “ah, shit” and downed his glass. “Girl, you musta met some real duds if that’s how I look.”

“Don’t even go there.” It wasn’t really a joke and Frank made the connection to recent events faster than you did.

“Hey. That piece of shit won’t bother you again. Anyone else threaten you like that, just tell me.”

You felt a flutter in the pit of your stomach and nearly wished it might be fear brought on by having violence talked of so flippantly. But that’d be letting yourself off too easy - you knew it was the thrill of knowing a monster like him was in your corner and would maybe, just maybe, let you in a little closer, where no one else could go. Those hands had had blood on them only hours ago and you could see at least one broken knuckle from where you were sitting. You didn’t want them on you any less. What the hell did that make you?

“That’s... I won’t say it’s sweet of you. But it’s good to know, Frank.”

Your hoarse voice brought pain to his eyes and he impulsively leaned over to touch your shoulder. Poor man thought it was fear that left you so affected. Then, too soon for your liking, he withdrew and sat back in his seat, looking around for something to lead him onto a lighter topic.

 

It took a little time to settle in comfortably in his company, but once Frank got to talking, he wasn’t nearly as reserved as you’d expected. He steered clear of the deep, dark waters which really only left small talk. He asked you about your life, your likes and dislikes and the comparative simplicity of it all didn’t seem to stop his genuine interest. When you mentioned a song you liked he hadn’t heard, he insisted you put it on and listened intently the entire way through, gazing into space and sipping on the wine with a smile playing on his lips you couldn’t read. If your taste struck him as funny, he didn’t admit to it.

No, getting a conversation going was easy. The trouble lay in focusing on it, when his mouth twisted like that, when his eyes twinkled and his chest pressed up against his shirt as if the fabric was vacuum sealed to his body. Either he couldn’t tell how your eyes strayed or he ignored it - a perfect gentleman as always.

It was a split second decision, if it was a decision at all. Frank reached over with a laugh to set his glass down on the coffee table, miscalculated the available space and ended up having to lean in close to reach an unoccupied spot. When he moved it pulled the collar back and he'd practically bared his jugular to your starved mouth. He felt the tension only a moment after you did and his smile faded when his dark eyes darted uncertainly from your eyes to your lips and you went for it. Lust rode you in that second, took command of your body without care for the fallout and your mouth pressed against his before you even knew what you were about to do.

Frank was frozen just for a moment, then his hand came up to gently cup the back of your head and he returned the kiss, achingly slow but with a trembling urgency behind it that made you want to throw yourself at his feet and his mercy. His teeth graced you lip and when you parted them in a gasp he deepened the kiss, let his tongue slip against yours. Then he sighed with a shudder, leaned out and swallowed. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His looked pained and his voice was an even lower, more broken rumble than usual.  
“What are you talking about? You must have known I wanted this from the beginning...”

Frank's rough fingers dug into the back of your neck and he pressed his forehead to yours. His breathing came hard through his broken nose. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbled and you were sure a rejection would follow. But then you saw his eyes, dark and hungry, saw his jaw tense and his nose twitching. He was fighting with himself and no part of his pain was caused by kindness.

“If you want me,” you whispered breathlessly to cut his struggle short, “Frank, you can have have me. Any way you want.”

You barely had time to finish speaking before his lips were on yours again. His pretty, pretty lips, finally on yours with quick and desperate kisses. Frank ran his hands up your sides and you turned to him fully to give him access. His trembling touch was at your hip, then at your neck, your arms, playing with your hair, hesitating when it encountered bare skin, encouraged and hurried when your gasps and whimpers egged him on. “Are you sure?” he murmured and got a hurried nod in response.

“Yes, yes please...”

The rhythm of kisses and touches slowed, he was gentle now, handling you so carefully as if he worried sudden movements would make you vanish into thin air. You explored him back and steadied yourself with your palms on his chest, where his bruised and tender heart beat against your skin as if straining to get close.

 

And then you did something bad. You edged closer to his throat and without asking, reached up and undid the strained button below his collarbone.

The change was immediate. A gasp from him as if you had doused him with cold water, a start, and then his hands enclosed yours and pushed them gently away from him.

Frank cleared his throat and looked at you only for a moment but no matter how he tried to hide it, you could see the emotion in his face plainer than you would have wished to.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed and he nodded, accepted it, and you knew it changed nothing.

He smiled and you sank, so fast, so crushing, felt yourself whole body flush with heat and shame and regret, your stomach churn, hot and sickening.

“Yeah. I just... I can’t. You know?”

“Of course, Frank. I didn’t mean...”

But there was something steely in his eyes now that cut you short. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t the drink, that you didn’t want to pressure him, that lust and love weren’t in opposition here. And how would that sound? You trying to assure this broken, broken man that he was more to you than a piece of meat... saying nothing at all would be less insulting.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek and it was so completely and heartbreakingly platonic you wanted to scream. “I get it,” he said and got to his feet.

You didn’t manage to catch up to him until he reached your front door but when you did you took his hand in yours, brought it to your lips and kissed it. He didn’t resist. “I care for you,” you pleaded and he frowned, nodded and turned his head away.

“Don’t worry, darlin. Just gotta think some stuff over, I guess.”

“...Alright.”

Frank forced himself to smile, nudged your chin with his hand again and let it fall to his side. “I’ll see you around. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright?”

And then, without anything having really either ended or begun, just like that he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to set up a new account, and so I reposted this fic here to keep all my Jon Bernthal related fics in one place. Sorry for the inconvenience and thank you so much to everyone who's commented and kudos'd this in the past <3


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